


Gimme That Thing That I Love

by Charliesmusings



Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [1]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: (the actual background is more like Friends to Maybe Lovers to Enemies to Friends again to Lovers), Enemies to Lovers, Fashion Designer AU, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliesmusings/pseuds/Charliesmusings
Summary: No actual explicit content here, just some swearing, but I like to cautious about ratings! This is the first entry in a fashion designer rivals AU for Skrael and Bellroc: Skrael has a show, but an old friend is determined to make sure he knows that they're there.
Relationships: Bellroc & Skrael (Tales of Arcadia), Bellroc/Skrael (Tales of Arcadia)
Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Gimme That Thing That I Love

_It’s them._ Skrael’s eyes narrow when he sees that flame-bright hair appear among the flurry of attendants backstage. _No way._

He nearly snaps his clipboard in half when he sees [what they’re wearing](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2FhzjPi0T&t=ZDBkZjEyMzEwNjYzN2ZmNjVjOWRhMWEwMGJjMDI1ZmUxMWZiNDYyNCxmNzQ1ZDMxYjZlNzllZDkwOGNiODVhNjY4MWI0MDYxYTBkNTVmZDhm&ts=1608506344). 

He waits until they are nearing him to ensure that they see him in profile, ordering about the poor lighting technician who happens to be nearest him. He passes off the clipboard to one of two personal assistants flanking him, and then shoos them away, turning his back deliberately to his approaching industry rival. He hopes distantly that he’ll make them have to tap his shoulder to “get his attention,”-- they already have it, of course, but he cannot let them know that-- but that does not happen. They clear their throat instead. 

Even that sounds dignified. His face goes sour for half a moment, before it smooths into elegant surprise as he turns around to face them.

“Oh! Bellroc! I had no idea you’d be--” a kiss to the air, “gracing the backstage area--” a second, “today.” _I did not give you permission to,_ he doesn’t say, but it isn’t hard to glean that this is his meaning, especially not when he gives a honeyed smile, as he stiffly returns _la bise_ , a tradition that he can’t even remember which of them started. Neither of their kisses connect, though; it would be practically indecently familiar. Their _la bise_ engagement is purely for show, entirely a part of the game they play. 

The game which he will win this time, he vows. 

They smirk beneath their-- _oh, fuck off;_[ _are those Vivienne Westwoods?_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fmodesens.com%2Fproduct%2Fvivienne-westwood-sun-and-moon-sunglasses-red-8146446%2F&t=ZmVhZTM4MDVlZDk1MmU1M2ZkY2EzYTg1NDgzZjJiNTRkOWZhZjc4YyxmZDIxOWM3ZTg1NTcwZjE0YzE1YmY2NTkxMTdlYzZiMjVmN2E5ZmRj&ts=1608506344)\-- sunglasses, and Skrael’s eyes briefly stick on that smirk, before he forces his gaze back up, to stare them down, despite the fact that even in [Demonias](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fdemoniacult.com%2Fcollections%2Fall%2Fproducts%2Fdamned-225bvel&t=NjE0NzAyYzY5Yzg5ZmM3YzdjMDFkNjcxYWJmN2M5MmQyOGM2Y2Y2Niw2NzYzZWZlOWY5ZTAwZjM5MjMxYzA2YTkyNzI2YjVkNTRjMzgzYjA1&ts=1608506344), he’s shorter than Bellroc. 

“Frankie let me in; after all, how could he say no to a friend with well wishes?” Bellroc’s voice is colored by an amused sort of delight at Skrael’s clear disapproval of their presence backstage. 

Skrael mentally swears. For how much he always personally hires Frankie, he really needs to stop forgetting that Bellroc also hires Frankie for their own shows. Just one more thing the pair of them compete in. He suspects, however, that neither of them will ever win the battle over Frankie, who’d likely simply keep collecting on the higher and higher amounts they’d pay him to try and sway him to their side. 

At any rate, Frankie is absolutely going to be biased toward giving Bellroc what they want-- Skrael should have known that. If what Bellroc wanted was backstage access to Skrael’s show, then backstage access to Skrael’s show is what they’d get from Frankie. Foolish bleeding heart...

Skrael shoots them another sweet smile, “How kind of you. I wish I could talk for longer, but I unfortunately have a bit of business to attend to; you know I accept nothing short of perfection, of course.”

“Oh, certainly.” There is almost a bitter edge to Bellroc’s tone, and Skrael briefly wonders what it’s about, almost-- _oh gods._ ... _Concerned_? Is he almost _concerned_ for them? What is _happening_ to him today? 

He shoves it down in the back of his head and immediately forces his mind to focus up. He can’t allow himself to get so distracted, not when Bellroc is still speaking. _Had he missed anything important?_

“--know you’d only ever demand the best of the best. I presume that must be hard, though, when Nari-- once again-- isn’t attending, hm?”

Skrael narrows his eyes, and he feels his fists ball; that was a low blow. 

He knows he is officially declaring himself ruffled by not bothering to hide his affected tone, but that doesn’t matter. He can still win the fight. He doesn’t even bother to ask how Bellroc knows that-- he doesn’t need to. Because-- “You know that Nari hasn’t attended either of our shows for _years_. _You_ aren’t doing any better than me on that front.” He hisses.

Something dark passes over Bellroc’s face for just a moment-- so fast that only Skrael’s eyes could have caught it; Skrael’s eyes which know Bellroc nigh intimately-- before they cover it up with a passive look, glancing at their nails. He knows it is meant to show confidence, but it reeks of a fidget for the purposes of silencing emotion. They casually say, “Of course not. But I have her contact information, now.” 

It is a bombshell, with the intent to stun, and, accursedly, it works. Skrael lets out a sound like he’s been punched. “H-...” he curses himself. His attacks are going up in smoke, “How?” He chokes out. 

Bellroc, for half a second, seems to look remorseful, that is, perhaps only in Skrael’s mind, as they drop their hand back to their side, placing it in the pocket of their no-doubt pre-public-release designer slacks. They have more friends in high places than Skrael does, or at least, he thinks they must. Not many have collaborated with his… _intense_ designs. (Or perhaps the more likely culprit is his equally intense personality, but he chooses to believe that it is the fashion community being too afraid of boxing themselves into an alt-fashion subculture; no high-end-claiming-to-be-everyperson brand would willingly associate themselves with his chains and leather and fishnets). 

At any rate, Bellroc snaps his mind back to, as they answer his question with, of course, as little information as possible, “Doesn’t matter. Won’t work a second time.”

_Right._ Nari is extremely careful with who she allows into her inner circle these days, and anything that works once for one of them-- who are very much _not_ allowed-- would pointedly not work for the other, as Nari fixes the issue. 

He collects himself, then, and takes a moment to glance at his watch; he does not need to know the time, but he wants to rub it in their face-- it is a [Hermés Arceau Squelette](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.hermes.com%2Fus%2Fen%2Fproduct%2Farceau-squelette-watch-40mm-W049008WW00%2F&t=OTdkNjI5NzczYWRlZmU3NWYwYmI1MGE4ODU0ZDdhMjllMzA2MThhMixhZTJjNDBiMTdjMWFkZmNlM2UyNGI0OTJhMGRlYmE3YWE0MTE3ZTBh&ts=1608506344)\-- _and,_ more importantly,make a show of just how little he cares for their answer. 

“Of course,” he mimics Bellroc’s previous comment, eyes sliding up to meet theirs once more. He immediately gathers that his distaste for their answer has clicked in their head, though they do not look particularly perturbed by the flash of his watch. Of course not. They have him beat today in general apparel decisions. He’d opted for something stylish during the show, lest he be caught in the limelight for any reason, but it is also comfort-based, for ease of movement. Were he to truly try to compete with them outfit-wise, he’d need to wait until the afterparty-- something which they were _actually_ invited to.

Because-- speaking of fashion decisions-- they needed to see him, then. He’d settle for nothing less. His outfit is [going to be a knockout.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F6z52Ttl&t=MDRjZTM5MTBhZDUwNGE0OWZlN2Y1NDlkMzQzODM0OWY4YmVjM2E4YyxjZjY2YzYxMmRhMDk4ZjhkNzAwNWFmZTE1NTkxZTg4ZWY1M2FlM2Jk&ts=1608506344)

They roll their eyes behind their glasses at his display, and Skrael bites down on his tongue to resist the smirk that threatens to reveal itself at that, as they say, “Too busy to speak to an old friend properly, Skrael? Should I be concerned that you’ve sold out?” They are not happy about his taking the subject off of Nari. It must have been their trump card.

Well, it’s not his fault they played it too early.

“Only if you have,” he teases, nearly amicably.

This wins him a begrudging smile from the other designer as they say, “Right. Because we do everything together, don’t we? Even separately.” 

Skrael’s second-long good mood tanks. “Certainly.” He says, and his voice is almost too soft, too genuine, for him to pretend that it isn’t. So, he quickly glosses over that, fixing it by saying, “I just happen to do everything better.”

It is a weak jab, and Bellroc-- infuriatingly-- knows it. They make this clear when they do not rise to it. “Sure, Skrael.” They say, and it is almost fond, which throws Skrael into an internal tizzy. _How dare they play at fondness?_ They have _no_ right to do that to him.

“Sit in the front row, won’t you?” He asks, although his tone is not friendly.

“I always do.” They grin back at him, the grin of a victor, before going to do just that, thoroughly finished with this brief stint; though, despite winning it, they are not sure if it was worth it.

As they walk away, Skrael stares at their retreating back, boiling over with all kinds of emotions that he doesn’t name, for fear of what they could be. 

...And then, to vent some of his frustrations, he begins to stalk over to Frankie, ready to righteously chew him out; it might help get his mind focused on the show again, instead of on Bellroc, and memories he doesn’t wish to dwell on. Young-looking crew members nearly leap out of his way upon seeing his expression, and it is almost enough to fix the mood that they have left him in.

It is almost enough to clear their smirk from devastating his mind. 

Almost, but not quite enough.

**Author's Note:**

> (Why yes, Frankie is Fragwa)


End file.
